


eternal sunshine of the not-so-spotless minds

by astralscrivener



Series: modern au: squad up universe [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks in Love, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: Lance naps like a kitten, and it’s the most precious thing Keith has seen all day.A collection of snippets set duringa midsummer night's meme, and a sequel/companion todoes any actual learning go on in this facility.





	1. skin stars

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna write a oneshot but this was all i wanted and it wasn't long enough to warrant a one-shot, and i figured it would happen frequently during amnm, so...here it is
> 
> daalgoitf isn't finished (bc the more i reread su the more snippet ideas i rack up) but this obviously is set over the summer, so there's no need for them to be in school, and yEAH ANYWAY NEW FANFIC (someone pls stop me this is the third in three days i'm dying)

            Lance naps like a kitten, and it’s the most precious thing Keith has seen all day.

            They’re on a blanket in Lance’s backyard, soaking up the sun of the early summer afternoon— _summer_ in the loosest sense, since seasons haven’t even officially changed. Keith’s got his back against the one tree in his yard, snatching up what little shade he can from the treehouse above, but for the most part, the sun beats down on him.

            Lance, on the other hand, has his head in Keith’s lap. He’s curled up, on his side, wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts and a loose tank top, darkening freckles out in full view. They dot his shoulders, his cheeks, his arms like tiny stars, and Keith traces a finger over them, over Lance’s sun-warmed skin.

            He starts at Lance’s wrist, and slowly connects constellations across his arm, up to his shoulders, to the dip of his neck. It’s there that Lance stirs slightly, eyes opening fractionally as he gazes up at Keith with a sleepy, content smile. Keith’s heart skips twenty beats as he returns the smile, that smile he’ll never get sick of seeing, and Lance shuts his eyes again, and snuggles in closer to Keith.

            Keith takes this as an invitation to keep going.

            He runs featherlight fingers across the sharp angles of Lance’s jaw, up and over his cheekbones, brushes the hair out of his face and leans down to press a kiss against Lance’s forehead. The smile on Lance’s face deepens at that, but otherwise, he doesn’t move, and Keith continues, tracing lines down Lance’s nose. He presses a tiny kiss there, too, on the very tip of it. Then he cups one hand against Lance’s cheek, and brushes a thumb over his lips, delicately.

            “You gonna kiss me or what?” Lance mumbles, and his mouth opens, just a bit, to give Keith the barest flash of a toothy grin.

            “Mmm, still deciding,” Keith replies, and laughs when Lance whines in response, rolling over until he’s on his back. He squints at Keith—squints, because the sun will blind him if he opens his eyes any further—and pouts.

            “ _Keeeeeiiiiiiith,_ you can’t just do that to me,” he protests.

            “You were so peaceful before,” Keith says, and sighs in mock shame. “Now it’s ruined.”

            Lance whines louder, hands pawing at Keith’s chin and cheeks. Keith tips his chin up, just out of Lance’s reach, and Lance scowls. He shifts against Keith, sitting up slightly, just enough to grab around the neck. Keith leans down, and Lance pulls himself up just a little bit more.

            “You really want this kiss, don’t you?” Keith murmurs, when their lips are practically touching, and smiles as he presses them together more firmly. Lance smiles, too, relaxing into the kiss. One hand slides up from Keith’s neck to his hair and tugs insistently on the hair tie keeping his short ponytail together, tugs until it slides free, and Keith’s hair flops down.

            Lance tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair—soft to the touch, despite the humidity.

            While Lance busies himself playing with the dark strands, Keith brings his arms around Lance—one around his back, and one cradling his neck, just so they have an easier time. Lance’s smile is contagious, and Keith’s own grows, until they can’t kiss anymore, because they can barely keep their lips together.

            “Mmh…yeah, I did,” Lance responds when he pulls away, and opens his eyes just enough to see that Keith has done the same.

            Keith looks absolutely starstruck, and Lance flushes.

            “You…holy _fuck,_ stop that,” Keith says, and makes a show of dropping Lance, letting Lance flop back down into his lap.

            Keith covers his face, and peers at Lance between his fingers. Lance sits up and pulls himself all the way into Keith’s lap, and then wraps hands around Keith’s wrists, pulling them away. Keith stares, mesmerized, and Lance smiles again.

            The one smile makes Keith’s breath hitch.

            Lance’s hair is practically bronze in the sun, his skin golden and glowing, while his eyes sparkle like sapphires.

            “Jeez…,” Keith mutters, a reverent thing. “How did I get so lucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KEITH LOVES LANCE AND LANCE LOVES KEITH AND I LOVE THEY


	2. we didn't start the fire (did anyone?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An impromptu evacuation of the squad's residence hall tower occurs during college orientation...in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warning for a detailed panic attack and implied references to a pre-fic character death a la tadashi hamada.**

            There’s an alarm shrieking in Keith’s ears.

            He blinks bleary eyes as he shifts on his mattress underneath his sleeping bag, reluctantly shaking off his first solid sleep in over a day, hand fumbling for the phone resting on the headboard of the bed’s frame. He turns his phone on, only to find that _his_ alarm isn’t going off, and his ringer’s all the way down, and Hunk’s bolting out of his bed across the room, and—

            _Oh._

            His body works on autopilot, but it’s an autopilot in need of repair. Legs that are already numbing threaten to give out as he gets to his feet, and he stumbles, letting out a strangled gasp that sounds mildly like a cry. He can’t _see_ , the lights are off and there’s a blindingly bright flash from the alarm in their room every few seconds and _my contacts I need shoes I need my key_ —but his contacts have already been taken off— _glasses, I need my glasses, oh my God I can_ _’t die here—_

            His throat’s closing, he’s sure of it because he can’t breathe, now, either, and his legs should have buckled already, he shouldn’t be able to make it out, _I_ _’m sorry, Dad, I’m so so sorry,_ and trembling fingers barely brush the wood of the table in a failing effort to find his bag, find the lanyard with the key to his room, find _shoes_ or maybe a jacket or maybe a hat for his shower-wet hair.

            “Keith—dude, you alright?”

            There’s a hand on his back, big and solid.

            “I—bag—I need—”

            “Okay, okay,” Hunk says, and Keith feels Hunk’s presence behind him as Hunk hurries over to the desk next to Keith’s bed, hears the key slide across the table and then jangle as it falls into midair, suspended by the lanyard. Then there’s a hand tugging on his arm as Hunk literally _puts his bag on his shoulders._

            “You got shoes, buddy?”

            Hunk’s a bit hard to hear over the fire alarm, and Keith’s already dizzy, dinner rising up along with bile in the back of his throat. He shakes his head _no,_ and it’s at the same moment the alarm flashes again. Hunk whips his head around and catches sight of Keith’s flip-flops, his _fucking shower shoes,_ sitting on top of his suitcase. He puts them onto the floor, and Keith stumbles into them, and then Hunk is ushering both of them out the door and into the hall.

            The hall, where every other guy on this floor is congregated, shouting confused questions at each other over the alarms.

            It’s colder out here, much colder than their pits-of-hell rooms, and a shiver sends goosebumps pricking along Keith’s skin, and maybe it’s fucked up but Keith’s a little grateful that he can blame his shaking on something else. The lack of breath and the dizziness, though, his squinting and being unable to see past vaguely-colored blobs, the fact that he feels like he can’t keep standing—those things he needs excuses for, like, _now,_ before he blacks out entirely—

            “Is this legit?”

            “ _Who the fuck_ is responsible for this? A man’s gotta _sleep, yo—!_ ”

            “What’s going on?”

            The sea of voices isn’t making things any better. All around Keith, guys shouting and shuffling in and out of their doorways, bodies too close together, _far too close,_ and Keith scrunches in, in, in on Hunk and back toward their doorway and his eyes are burning and _fuck, now I really can_ _’t see_ —

            Above everyone else, one of the orientation leaders starts shouting, directing people to get to the stairs _now_ and shouting, _shouting?_ Shouting—shouting means _bad,_ shouting means _danger,_ danger means _fire and fire means death—_

            Someone grabs his arm and momentarily, Keith feels his soul leave his body. But then he glances back and _oh, oh, I know these blobs, I know this touch_ —it’s Lance, and Lance is safe, a blanket draped around his shoulders and his hand is around Keith’s wrist and Hunk is muttering to him about glasses and Lance doesn’t ask, just moves. His other hand unzips the bottommost pocket of Keith’s crooked backpack and produces a rectangular case. Lance doesn’t hand it off—he opens it and takes out Keith’s glasses himself and hands _those_ off, instructing him to put them on.

            Keith does. He nearly drops his glasses and nearly loses his shit because _if I drop these, they_ _’ll get crushed_ as his fellow incoming freshmen keep the sea surging down the stairwells. Once Keith’s glasses are on, Lance puts the case away, zips Keith’s bag up, and laces their fingers together and _squeezes._

            Lance squeezes his hand to the point it’s the numbest place on his body, squeezes until the two of them and Hunk are out in the parking lot in the dark, surrounded by disgruntled students from other floors, all complaining about the cold, one complaining about how they were in the shower, a group of friends moaning about how they got stuck in the elevator.

            Keith himself shudders harder out here, and Lance doesn’t hesitate before bringing arms around him, wrapping Keith in both his embrace and the blanket he was smart enough to bring out. He tucks Keith’s head under his chin.

            “I don’t know what’s going on,” Lance whispers, “but it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

            It takes until the fire department comes and deems the building all clear, takes until he’s texted Shiro about the situation, takes until they’re back in their rooms without an explanation for the evacuation (their orientation leaders just as lost as they are, just as disturbingly lax about this as most of the other freshmen are) for Keith to calm down almost entirely. He kisses Lance good night, bids Hunk a good night, and then rolls over on his mattress with his back to the room, crashing headfirst into fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lololololololol guess who experienced blinding panic at 1 in the morning yesterday for a solid five minutes 
> 
> i'm good now tho and the rest of orientation was fun but this?? not so much


	3. cartop confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith opens up to Lance about his father's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set post-chapter 5 of amnm
> 
> **trigger warning for parental death/death by fire a la tadashi hamada**

            Half an hour into driving around the back roads in the town surrounding the university, Keith pulls the car over and cuts the engine.

            It’s a nice spot, secluded. At least, in the daylight. They’re on a winding road in the middle of nowhere with only the GPS to guide them through the woods that surround them, houses interspersed here and there, long driveways hidden by trees and sharp turns. Keith’s pulled the car over as safely as he could’ve, and now he unbuckles, much to Lance’s confusion.

            “Keith?” Lance asks, unbuckling his own seatbelt, mimicking Keith’s motions as Keith opens the car door.

            The words scattered around in Keith’s head have been bugging him all day, eating away at him, but he’s mostly managed to keep the lid on them, until now. He practically stumbles out of the driver’s seat, and Lance throws himself out of his own seat and runs around to the other side of the car, just in time to catch him before he can hurt himself.

            “Hey, hey—what’s going on?” Lance asks, but his voice is quiet and gentle, as serene as the surroundings. He helps Keith around to the front of the car, where Keith pulls himself up onto the hood, and Lance climbs on next to him.

            For a moment, Keith is silent—his mouth opens and closes a few times, while Lance looks on, eyebrows knitted in concern.

            “So…you remember this morning? The fire alarm?” Keith finally says, and Lance nods.

            “Yeah. Hunk said you were freaking out.”

            Keith sits up a little more, drags a hand through his hair. Lance also shifts up, inching just the slightest bit closer to Keith, close enough for their shoulders to press together.

            “Yeah. I was. Uh…fuck…yeah, I’m just…my dad, alright? I was thinking about my dad and panicked. Fire alarms are a trigger,” Keith says, and draws his knees up to his chest, and continues on before Lance can say something. “He was a firefighter. He…he died in the line of duty. He was answering a-a call, and some kid was trapped in the building, and…he and a few other guys went in to save them. The kid and the other guys made it out right before the building collapsed. My dad…”

            Keith’s breath hitches, shoulders bunch, head ducks. Lance puts a tentative arm around his shoulders, and settles it there when Keith doesn’t shrug it off. Instead, Keith takes in a deep breath, tries to steady his shakiness.

            “He didn’t make it out. They couldn’t save him.”

            “Oh…oh my God, Keith…I’m so sorry,” Lance whispers, after a heartbeat of hesitation, and he pulls Keith in closer to him, and Keith lets him. Lance is still gentle with him, arms loose enough around him to give him the space he needs to breathe.

            Keith’s head falls against Lance’s chest, and his fingers loosely grasp Lance’s shirt.

            “It’s not…I’m…the circumstances were…the specific circumstances made it worse. Like, fire alarms during the day, I can handle, they’re not so bad…but I…I just woke up, a-and I couldn’t see, and n-no one else _knew_ what was going on…”

            Keith trails off, focuses on his breathing again. He won’t cry—not this time. It’s a promise he’s made to himself, that he’ll keep his composure, and he’s hellbent on keeping this one.

            “I just…I wanted to tell you. You deserve to know, a-and if you’re going to room with me, this probably isn’t…probably isn’t the last time an alarm’s gonna go off in the middle of the night, so…”

            Keith stops himself before he can continue with _so if you want to back out of being roommates, I understand, because you shouldn_ _’t have to deal with this._

            “It’s alright,” Lance says, running fingers through Keith’s hair. “It’s okay. I’m…I’m glad you told me.”

            Keith sighs, deep and heavy.

            “I wasn’t gonna,” he admits. “Not…not until I’d taken care of the situation with my mom, but then, last night…I can’t keep you in the dark. Not when we’re gonna be sharing a room, and if it happens again— _when_ it happens again…”

            “When it happens again, we’ll be ready,” Lance says reassuringly. “I’ve got you, and you’ve got me.”

            Keith smiles a bit at Lance’s sentiment, and the two of them stay on the hood of the car for a long time afterward, silent, listening to the sounds of the woods around them, watching the occasional car drive by. The sun sinks lower in the sky, orange rays filtering through the trees.

            “I love you,” Keith murmurs.

            Lance smiles at that, pulls Keith closer to him.

            “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "hey eileen, how often do you cry when you write soft klance?" a lot
> 
> need me a supportive s/o like that
> 
> lmao see y'all in the next one


	4. oh, it's saturday night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance drives Keith home after Shay's party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set post-chapter 6 of amnm :P

            Their loud singing dies down halfway between Pidge’s house and Keith’s house.

            Lance twines his fingers with Keith’s as the car winds through the side streets of town. The street itself isn’t quiet—thumping music plays in the distance, while other houses shoot off fireworks, marking grad party season in full swing. Lance and Keith themselves are on their way back home from Shay’s combined grad-and-birthday party, Keith yawning in the front seat, despite the fact that he and Lance were both singing at the top of their lungs just minutes ago.

            Lance, too, yawns as he drives past house after house, until he pulls up to the dark Brogane residence. Shiro’s out for the night, on the late shift at Target, which means Keith has the place to himself.

            For a moment, he and Lance sit in silence in the driveway, the car idling. They’ve both leaned back in their seats, staring straight ahead at the garage lit up by Lance’s headlights. Keith absently rubs circles on Lance’s knuckle with his thumb, not willing to leave the air conditioning for the brief walk up the front steps to the door.

            It’s Lance, though, who moves first. He sighs, and straightens himself out in his seat, still clutching Keith’s hand. His other hand, which rests on the steering wheel, slides down and lands in his lap.

            “I _really_ don’t feel like making the drive back home.” He turns his head to the side, and Keith mirrors him, their gazes meeting. “Can I sleep over?”

            Keith smiles, and laughs lightly to himself. “I mean, yeah, you really could’ve just let yourself in.”

            Lance scoffs. “Excuse me, I have _manners._ ”

            “Says the kid who almost took a knife to the face because he scared the crap out of me on the first day of Pride Month,” Keith retorts, and lets go of Lance’s hand, opens his door, and jumps out of the car.

            Lance follows suit, trailing Keith up the front steps.

            “Uh, no, I distinctly remember having permission to enter the house! Shiro let me in!”

            Keith turns as he’s unlocking the front door, just to raise his eyebrows at Lance. “So _all of a sudden_ you have energy, but only because you need to argue with me.”

            “I need to prove that Mamá raised a _gentleman,_ Keith!”

            And to do just that, as soon as Keith has the door unlocked, Lance scoops him into his arms.

            Keith can’t help the yelp that comes out of his mouth, arms automatically flying around Lance’s neck for no reason other than he needs to balance himself _somehow,_ before he can hit the floor and break a bone. Lance laughs at him as he saunters into the living room, spinning around while Keith holds onto him tighter.

            “You could’ve driven home, you liar!” Keith protests, tucking his feet in to avoid knocking over the lamp on the side table.

            Lance continues twirling them around the room until he crashes into the couch, bringing Keith down on top of him. Shiro’s cat, Black, mews at them from the other side of the couch, eyes opening slightly before she curls up tighter around herself and closes them again, clearly intent on keeping the couch to herself.

            “Mmm, nah, that was my last wind, I’m done now,” Lance responds, and lets his head flop back.

            “Nope, come on, we’re going upstairs,” Keith says, rolling off of Lance and getting to his feet.

            He grabs Lance’s hand and tugs a few times, until Lance is begrudgingly on his feet. They make the trek up the stairs to Keith’s room, where they kick off their shoes, take off necklaces and bracelets, leave their promise rings on their fingers. The window in Keith’s room has somehow been left open, letting in hot, humid air, hot enough where the two of them strip down to boxers, and then collapse on top of Keith’s bed next to each other.

            “My skincare routine’s gonna suffer so much,” Lance groans, pressing his face into Keith’s pillow, searching for any bit of coolness he can, “but I’m not getting up.”

            “Shouldn’t you at least call your mom before you go to sleep?” Keith mutters, his own face pressed into his mattress.

            Lance groans louder, hand flying out, pawing at the table next to the bed until he finds his phone. His call with his mother is as brief as he can make it, which is to say, not very brief at all— _“Hi Mamá—no, I’m not at the party—I’m at Keith’s—yeah, he’s fine—no, neither of us have proposed—Maaaaaa—I’ll be home early in the morning—I promise—yes—no—yeah, okay—okay—mmhmm, yep—buenas noches—no, I didn’t—I’m fine, Mamá—yeah—buenas noches—te quiero—good night—good NIGHT—bye.”_ —and when it’s over, he slaps his phone back down.

            “What’d she want?” Keith asks.

            “Eh, the usual,” Lance responds, twirling a hand in the air that Keith can’t see. “Did we have fun? Did we do anything we weren’t supposed to? Is Shay good? What about Hunk? I love her, but I just wanna _sleeeeep._ ”

            “Then go to sleep,” Keith replies.

            Keith turns his head to the side, cheek pressed against the mattress. Lance turns toward Keith, almost in sync.

            “Good night,” Keith whispers, smiling.

            “Good night, Starlight,” Lance responds, and leans over. He means to kiss the tip of Keith’s nose, but Keith tilts his head up, their lips meeting briefly. Lance draws back with narrowed eyes.

            “You fucker.”

            “Good night, Starboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brain: eileen, please write literally anything other than the squad up universe, PLEASE, YOUR OTHER READERS WANT FOOD  
> me: [squidward_"did_u_hear_sumn".jpeg]  
> brain: EiLeEn
> 
> I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S UPDATING NEXT BECAUSE IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS SO I DUNNO, SUBSCRIBE TO ME?? ADD ME ON TWITS (NERDYSPACEACE) OR INSTAGRAM (NERDYSPACEACE)??? I DUNNO BYEEE


	5. winding down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance share a quiet moment on Lance's second night home from Cuba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's very windy here, part of my back fence blew in so now my dog can't frolic in the morning bc he'll get curious and hop out of the yard, but u know what??? klance material fight me

            _Jeez_ _…Matt wasn’t wrong about the temperatures dropping._

            The open windows in Lance’s room let in cool air and violent gusts of wind from outside on Lance’s second night home from Cuba. He and Keith lie on Lance’s bed—or, more specifically, Keith lies on Lance’s bed, slightly propped up by Lance’s pillows. Lance uses _Keith_ as his pillow, head against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around Keith’s waist.

            Lance has come home just in time for a cool streak, and a wet one at that—the forecast predicts nothing but rain every single day for the next week. And while the rain is nice—his favorite weather—the cool temperatures leave…something to be desired.

            Of course, _this_ makes up for it.

            Keith’s sweatshirt is big and warm over Lance’s frame, and Keith’s fingers are slow and lazy in Lance’s hair, and Keith’s eyes are shut and he’s freaking _humming._

            And Lance is weak for him.

            “This is so much nicer than how it was when I was away,” Lance mutters, and closes his own eyes, listens to the beat of Keith’s heart, through the one of Lance’s sweatshirts he wears. “Nobody’s trying to kick me in the face or elbow me in the rib.”

            Being away meant rooming with three of his four brothers, none of them exactly the nicest, none of them holding any qualms about getting rowdy in an effort to steal blanket and pillow and mattress space. As the youngest, Lance stood no chance against them. Being crammed in with them wasn’t really a walk in the park, either. But resting against Keith?

            “I can kick their butts for you if you want,” Keith mumbles, and sounds like he’s half-asleep.

            Lance smiles, laughs lightly. At that, Keith gives a light laugh of his own, chest rising and falling under Lance’s head. Lance’s smile widens, as he nestles his head further against Keith.

            “Nah,” Lance says, and his voice has dropped to a whisper. “I think doing this is just perfect. I missed this.”

            They quiet down after that. Despite still being wiped from travel, Lance listens to Keith fall asleep first, to the sounds of the winds whipping outside the window, to the rain pattering on the roof. Lets the smell of petrichor waft into his room and lull him off, lets Keith’s heartbeat guide his own into rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're so soft ;-;


	6. and tonight, he skips skincare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has had a long, sleepless day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during chapter 21 of amnm.
> 
> sometimes u just need some soft klance with keith being nice to lance after season 7

            It’s late at night by the time Krolia comes back, and relieves Keith and Lance of their duties of watching Clara and Javier. Of course, by then, the two of them are already wiped out, curled up on the couch underneath several blankets, leaving Lance and Keith to squish together in an arm chair. Lance, for the most part, has spent that time sitting in Keith’s lap, his head on Keith’s shoulder, Keith’s arms loose around him.

            “Hey,” Keith says quietly, once Krolia’s in the kitchen, making herself a late dinner, and Lance lifts his head, tired, half-lidded eyes meeting Keith’s, “you wanna head up?”

            Keith tips his chin toward the stairs, and Lance nods. He means to stand up on his own, but Keith has other ideas. He scoops Lance into his arms bridal-style and rises from the chair. Lance doesn’t yelp and doesn’t protest. He’s sleep-deprived and two seconds away from crashing, so he just nestles in closer to Keith, hooks his arms around Keith’s neck, and hopes he’s not giving Keith too much trouble.

            Carrying him is almost effortless. Within a minute or two, Keith’s already ascended the stairs and is nudging his bedroom door open with his shoulder. Once it’s open, he strolls inside, and gently sets Lance down on the bed, where he collapses, limbs sprawling out.

            “No skincare routine?” Keith asks softly.

            He maybe meant it to be teasing, but that edge is blunted. Lance’s weariness is evident in the way he sinks into the mattress, into the blankets. His eyes are already shut, even though he must be cold, with the air conditioner up here blasting, and his only clothing being a loose tank top and cargo shorts. Lance opens his eyes slightly, and squints at Keith, before shutting them again and sighing.

            “No.”

            “Y’just wanna sleep?”

            There’s a beat of hesitation, and then Lance nods to him with the tiniest whimper, and Keith’s heart cracks, just the slightest.

            “Okay,” Keith responds.

            He sits down on the other side of the bed and scoots over, and then lies back, head falling against his pillow. Lance automatically crawls next to him, until he’s got an arm draped over Keith, and his head rests against Keith’s chest, ear pressed above his heart. It’s not their typical sleeping arrangement—usually, they’re reversed, but they’re never opposed to swapping places. Sometimes one of them needs to be the little spoon, to be held. Keith could never bring himself to deprive Lance of that.

            He runs fingers through Lance’s hair with one hand, and rubs his back with the other.

            “Everything’s gonna work out with your family,” Keith murmurs, and lets his eyes drift toward the stars stuck to the ceiling. “I know it’s stressful, and I know…you’re really not used to things being that tense. But everything’s okay. It’s all gonna work out.”

            Lance gives Keith another whimper in response, and Keith hates it.

            He hates seeing Lance like this. Keith going silent is one thing, because he’s quiet by nature. Withdrawing when he’s depressed or anxious isn’t too many steps away from the ordinary, but with Lance…it’s like thick cloud-cover, on what should be a bright, sunny day. It’s the music cutting out mid-song. A dancer abruptly stumbling to a halt. Everything is dull and muted and silent where just seconds before it had been vibrant and pulsing with life.

            All of Lance’s energy from earlier in the morning, fueled by his lack of sleep, has finally run out.

            “I promise,” Keith goes on, voice a little more firm, a little more quiet. “And I’m here for you, whenever you need to get away. I’m here, period.”

            Always there, always with open arms.

            “I love you,” Keith finishes, and cuts the smallest of glances to the promise-turned-engagement ring on his finger, gleaming against Lance’s hair. He can’t help but smile at it, and hopes that somehow Lance can feel it, somehow it’ll lift his spirits as he drifts off to dreamland, if only a little.

            “Love you too,” Lance mutters, his voice heavy with sleep.

            Keith doesn’t let himself so much as close his eyes until he’s sure Lance is completely out, until he’s curled up and snoring against Keith’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see y'all whenever


	7. welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a certain someone's returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "eileen...wasn't this marked as done?"
> 
> ya
> 
> but like
> 
> i had this sitting in my drafts since the summer and it's really cute i don't know why i never posted it...plus we really need some soft kl after last week c'mon

            “Lance!”

            Lance drops his luggage in the grass, and then he’s running, too. Keith jumps, launching himself into Lance’s arms, opened wide. Lance spins the moment they collide, hands catching Keith underneath the thighs while Keith wraps his arms and legs around Lance’s frame, presses his entire body against him, buries his face in Lance’s neck as he laughs incredulously.

            Lance laughs, too, and it’s beautiful. Magical. Infinitely more wonderful in person than over FaceTime. Keith cuts off his own laughter as a sob builds in the back of his throat, and he chokes it out.

            Hearing him cry must sober Lance up. He lets go, and Keith’s legs drop, until his feet touch grass again. Then Lance brings his arms around Keith’s back and hold him tightly. Keith shakes with the other sobs he refuses to let out, and tries to focus on Lance. Right in front of him. A shade or two tanner than he was when he left, definitely. His freckles have multiplied and darkened, and he still smells strongly of ocean, of surf and sand.

            “Holy shit,” Keith breathes out, voice cracking as he draws back, long enough to look Lance in the eyes. “Why are you _home?_ I thought you were supposed to be gone for another week!”

            A thought strikes Keith, then, that Lance has returned home only because of _him._ This must have been something hasty. Must have been Lance acting on an impulse after seeing Keith hurt too many times while he’s been gone.

            Lance dashes those thoughts away almost immediately.

            “Nah,” he answers, and smiles lopsidedly, and there’s an ache in Keith’s chest. _God,_ he wants to kiss that smile. “I’ve had this planned, way before Mamá even booked flights. If you weren’t going, I was only gonna go for two weeks.”

            “Why?” Keith asks before he can stop himself.

            Lance still smiles, but a pained look comes over his expression. “ _Because_ , I wanted you there with me, dummy. I didn’t wanna be away for three weeks. I…I’ve missed you _so much_. I _knew_ I’d miss you, a-and I couldn’t be away that long. I…you’re a McClain, too. It’s not right to leave a McClain behind.”

            Those words do Keith in, send a spear straight through his heart. Yeah, Lance came home because of him, but not for the reasons Keith expected. The ache in his chest swells until Keith can’t breathe, and he pulls Lance back in, for another crushing hug. He bites down on his lip to keep from letting another cry escape him, but Lance knows. Lance always knows. He’s no longer laughing—he presses his face into Keith’s hair.

            “How good can my vacation be when I’m in a completely different country from my favorite person?” Lance whispers.

            “Shut _up_ ,” Keith mutters.

            They stand around in silence for a while, until Lance pulls back. He studies Keith’s face, frowning as his eyes land on the bandage on his cheek, covering up the stitches and cut that will inevitably leave behind a nasty scar. Tentatively, he lifts a hand, and traces his thumb down the length of the bandage, from Keith’s cheekbone to the line of his jaw. Something in his eyes darkens, and Keith’s chest clenches.

            He loves Lance’s eyes. The typical saying is that the eyes are the window to the soul, and Lance constantly has his soul on display—at least, to Keith. Keith knows how to interpret the gleam in his gaze, knows the difference between calm ocean waves and a storm at sea.

            “Hey,” Keith says, and wraps fingers around Lance’s wrist. “It’s not that bad. I barely felt it.”

            Not a lie. The adrenaline pumping through his veins during that fight allowed him only to feel a vague stinging when one of Rolo’s friends dragged a knife down his cheek.

            “Still,” Lance murmurs. “Wish I could’ve done something.”

            “Hey, no, don’t think like that,” Keith responds, and brings his other hand up, tilts Lance’s chin up until Lance meets his eyes. Keith tries for a smile, one that Lance returns—barely. “You were on vacation. You couldn’t have known anything was gonna happen. Don’t you dare feel guilty about this. You hear me, McClain?”

            Lance doesn’t respond right away, eyes falling back to Keith’s cut. Keith sighs. “C’mere.”

            Keith leans in, and presses his mouth softly against Lance’s. He draws back, fractionally, but then Lance leans back in and tugs him closer, and it’s like two puzzle pieces sliding together. There’s no rush about this; this isn’t one of their supercharged kisses, no insistent pulling and hard breathing. It’s slow, lazy, the rolling of a tide on a humid summer day, with nothing but clear blue sky in all directions. Keith’s hand slides from Lance’s chin to his cheek, and Lance’s free hand tightens just the slightest around Keith’s back, while his other rests against his neck, and Keith’s pulse thumps into the side of Lance’s thumb.

            “You have no idea how much I missed this,” Lance whispers when they break, as he presses his forehead against Keith’s.

            Keith can’t help it; he snorts, smiles. Slides his hand along the rest of Lance’s wrist, pulls his hand away from his neck and intertwines their fingers. “It was two weeks.”

            “Longest two weeks of my life,” Lance responds.

            “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

            “Am not— _this_ is me being dramatic!”

            Lance breaks his grip on Keith’s hand and bends over, forcing Keith into a dip as he sweeps his arm behind Keith’s knees. Keith yelps, hands flying around Lance’s neck as Lance picks him up bridal-style and marches toward the backyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they :)


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